The Benevolent Lords of Sometimes Island

by Scott Semegran

  We all burst into laughter, particularly Tony, who was stoned to the bone. Our raucous reaction encouraged Randy, who continued assuredly.

  “And what’s the deal with the Salisbury Steak in the cafeteria? It looks like the lunch lady pooped out a real stinker, hammered it flat, then covered it in gravy. That’s sooooo disgusting!”

  This joke elicited even louder laughter, so Randy continued for the next couple of minutes, spewing gross joke after gross joke about the various things we all hated about school, the chores our parents made us do, and the minutiae of pre-teen life as a middle-schooler. I guess you could say he was playing to the crowd. Even Tony and Victoria were rolling on the floor. Although they were in high school, in actuality, they weren’t too much older. Randy just ate up our enthusiastic reactions to his gross-out jokes. He quickly concluded his set.

  “Tip your waitress and bartender, folks! I’ll be here all week!” he said, taking a bow and absorbing the adulation from the rest of us. He beamed proudly. “Our next entertainer is someone we all know well. Our friend William!”

  Randy offered me the lantern and I stood up after taking it. I looked around the room then down at all my friends, sitting in the quivering, soft glow of the lantern. I felt a paralyzing fear in the pit of my stomach—the fear that comes from being judged or chastised—and Randy could see my hesitation and reluctance. He threw out a life line.

  “Tell everyone the story you told me the other day. The one about Spider-Man and Doctor Doom.”

  I appreciated his assist, then nodded knowingly. I cleared my throat and began.

  “So, I have this pocket book copy of the first six issues of The Amazing Spider-Man...”

  I took a deep breath and imagined the illustrated pages of my book, then the story just poured out. I told them with loving detail about the sinister plot Doctor Doom hatched and the ways Spider-Man thwarted his plans. I described the thrilling action of Steve Ditko’s fluid art with the purple prose and zippy dialog of Stan Lee’s script. I even played out some of the fight scenes with faux body slams and haymaker punches. I felt like I had them in the palms of my hands and stuck the landing when I finished my routine.

  “And that’s what inspired me to call Tony about picking us up and bringing us here.”

  I took a bow. Everyone applauded politely, although not raucously like after Randy was done. But that was OK. I didn’t feel like dying anymore; I felt exhilarated and a little relieved it was over. I handed the lantern to Randy the MC, who then introduced our next entertainer: Brian. After a quick bit of applause, Brian procured the lantern and began his part of the show.

  “Rather than attempt to entertain you, I would like to answer any questions you may have about survival. I will soon be an Eagle Scout and I know a lot about—”

  “What do you do if you get bit by a snake?” Tony blurted. “I’ve always wondered about that.”

  Victoria gave him the stink eye and he mouthed What? in return.

  “Well,” Brian began, his eyes rolling up to sort through the various survival techniques in his mind, looking for the correct answer about treating a snake bite. “That all depends on the type of—”

  “What if a water moccasin bites you? Will you die? Cause I see them all around and in the lake. I mean—”

  Victoria slugged his arm.

  “Hey!” he complained. Victoria smirked.

  Brian continued, and eventually fielded all types of questions from us, like how to make a composting toilet, what bugs are OK to eat, and where are good places to look for clean drinking water. It was an enthralling presentation actually. I was surprised to learn just how much Brian knew about survival in the outdoors. I had no doubt that one day, he would be a fantastic Eagle Scout. When he was done, we all clapped as he gave the lantern back to Randy.

  “That was amazing!” Randy said. “Our last entertainer needs no introduction... Miguel!”

  He handed the lantern to Miguel after he stood up and he reluctantly took his place in the middle of the room. He closed his eye and inhaled deeply, a look of tranquility washing over his face. The corners of his mouth perked up, then he began to recite something that seemed like he spent weeks preparing. He spoke with the studious confidence of a college professor.

  “I have always been fascinated with rulers from history, particularly the benevolent and malevolent ones. Benevolent ones were kind to their kingdoms. Malevolent ones were cruel dictators. An example of a benevolent ruler would be someone like King James I of England, who allocated funds to support the arts and made reforms for the welfare of women and children. An example of a malevolent ruler would be someone like Adolf Hitler, a leader who abused an extraordinary amount of personal power.”

  We marveled at the confidence Miguel exuded while he talked about this topic that consumed his passion. It seemed like we were witnessing the beginnings of a prolific career as a professor or some such professional. Little did I know back then just how prophetic that was. He spoke in measured tones, and placed emphasis on certain words with the wave or chop of a hand, like an orchestra’s conductor performing a séance on his unwitting musicians.

  “I think it’s fascinating how a ruler chooses to lead. I’ve always felt that if I was to rule a kingdom, or if we ruled this place around the Cabin of Seclusion—our kingdom—then we would be benevolent rulers or lords or kings.”

  “Can a lady be a lord?” Victoria said, interrupting his speech. Tony glared at her.

  “Of course, she can,” Miguel said. “I’m a feminist, you know. Ladies can be lords, too.”

  “Radical!” Victoria said, raising her palm to Miguel for a high-five.

  “Thank you! That is all,” Miguel said, taking a bow.

  We clapped as he sat down, congratulating ourselves on a show well done.

  “What do we do now?” I said.

  “Finish this beer, that’s what,” Tony said, offering a beer to me. I shook my head. “Man, you mean I have to drink all this beer myself?”

  “I’ll help you finish,” Victoria said, taking it from his hand. She pulled the tab from the top, a foamy blast erupting from it.

  “Cool, baby.”

  “What if we wanted to buy this lake house?” I said to Tony, who was giving Victoria goo goo eyes.

  He turned to look at me and scratched his stubbly chin. “Yeah, I don’t think you can. It’s in estate limbo like I told you before. Besides, even if it was for sale, I don’t think you could afford it.”

  “We have money,” I said. “Lots.”

  “Oh yeah? How much you got in that backpack of yours?”

  “$1,780.”

  “Wow!” he said, sitting up then scratching his scalp. He took a swig of beer before continuing. “That’s a good amount of dough, but it wouldn’t be enough to buy this place. You probably need a hundred thousand, at least.”

  “Oh,” I said, dejected. “That’s too bad.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you guys would make awesome lakers. Maybe one day you’ll own a place out here. It just probably won’t be this place,” he said, then he cast an amorous gaze at Victoria. The two nodded, as if knowing an unspoken language that only the two of them were fluent in. Tony stood up and offered his two hands to Victoria, helping her up to her feet. “We gotta get some sleep, then get up before sunrise.”

  “Before our parents wake up,” Victoria added.

  “So, hand over those sleeping bags.”

  Brian and Randy groaned, knowing they would be sleeping on the hard wood floor with me and Miguel, then reluctantly gave them the two sleeping bags.

  “We’ll see you in the mañana.”

  “Good night,” Victoria said.

  “Good night,” we all said to them.

  They walked to the other side of the house, entered a room, and closed the creaky door behind them. A series of muffled sounds could be heard, at first a dull thud like the sleeping bags hitting the floor, then a clumsy combination of footsteps as if the two of them tripped over each other�
��s feet. Followed by dead silence. We looked at each other, our eyebrows raised like fighting caterpillars, then we burst out laughing. Randy turned off the lantern, and laid down with his head on his rolled-up towel.

  “Might as well try to sleep,” he said. “We should get up early and explore our kingdom some more since we’re the lords of the manor.”

  “Yeah!” Brian said. “And finally bury our treasure!”

  We all snickered, then made ourselves as comfortable as we could. After saying our good nights, everyone quickly fell asleep, except for me. I stared up into the rafters for what seemed like hours, listening to the owl sing his night song. Hoo huh hoo, hoo huh hoo. I heard a rustling outside and my curiosity got the best of me, so I got up and crept over to a window facing the direction of the sound outside.

  I pressed my nose to the grimy glass of the window, peering out into the inky darkness, swathes of moonlight illuminating some of the lake house property. Out along the perimeter where the trees lined the edge, a lone wolf stared back at me with glowing yellow eyes, standing still as a statue, not even blinking. It peered straight at me, looking into and through my own eyes, staring into my soul and the secrets kept down there. Secrets so mortifying that I wouldn’t dare tell anyone. There was an eerie calmness to its presence, and it seemed the night breeze stopped as it stood there staring. The owl stopped hooting, too. And the longer I looked at the wolf, the more I felt a hypnotizing hold take over me, as if it was seducing me. Scared, I closed my eyes to protect myself, then rubbed them for a second or two, to see if maybe my eyes were betraying me. When I finally opened them again, the wolf was gone. It vanished.

  That’s when the owl started up again. Hoo huh hoo, hoo huh hoo. I scanned all the visible property for the wolf, but he was gone. Finally, I tip-toed back over to where my friends were lying on the wood floor. I laid down, too, and tried to sleep, but I was consumed with the fear that the wolf might come in and eat us all. I pulled my towel over my head in an attempt to hide.

  Please go away wolf, I thought. Please don’t hurt me and my friends.

  14.

  From what I’ve been told, sometime early the next morning before there was sunlight, Tony told us he was leaving to take Victoria back to her parents’ house and that he would be back to get us in the motor boat, so he could take us back home to Converse. His parents expected him to perform his work rounds for the marina—dropping off supply orders (food, toiletries) to the various families living in anchored sailboats out in the bay—and only then would he be able to give us a ride back home. I say I was told this because I don’t actually remember Tony telling us anything; all my friends told me much later. But strangely, what I do remember was a lucid dream so vivid that it has stuck with me to this day, and not the reality of the early morning’s events. Has that ever happened to you? I’ve had dreams that appeared so real that sometimes I question my own memories.

  Here’s what I dreamt. I believe now that I was so gobsmacked from the wolf sighting that night that I willingly fell into a lucid dream, one where I was conversing with the wolf through the window. The wolf spoke perfect English and was more than happy to answer any questions I had for it. I asked it through the window things like, What is your favorite thing to eat? (Turns out it’s fawns) What do wolves do for fun? (They like to perform practical jokes on the members of their wolf pack) And the most important question of all: What do you think of humans? (They’re more ambivalent about humans than I assumed) But the strangest part of the dream was not the conversation I had with the wolf. It was that Tony was interrupting me in the dream. He was telling me that he’d be back for us in the motor boat, but I kept telling him to stop interrupting the conversation I was having with the wolf. (The wolf’s name was Jasper, by the way) I was so annoyed with Tony in my dream because the wolf threatened to leave if he continued to interrupt us. The last thing I remember was yelling at Tony, Go away! Just go away!

  I awoke to my friends laughing at me while they ate Pop Tarts and drank soda for breakfast. It was a sad realization that the conversation with the wolf was only a dream. I rubbed the crust from my eyes, then stretched my arms.

  “Who-thh are you telling-thh to go away?” Randy said, his mouth full of Pop Tart. He slurped from a can of Big Red, then belched.

  “Tony,” I said, rubbing my stiff neck.

  “Tony?” Brian said, chuckling. “He left a while ago with Victoria. Said he had to get her home, then go to work.” He shoved the rest of a Pop Tart into his mouth, almost too large of a piece to fit, then crumpled the wrapper into a tiny ball. He cocked his arm up as if to shoot a three-pointer in the final seconds of a tense NBA basketball game, then launched the wadded wrapper over all our heads and into a trash bag hanging on the side of the kitchen counter. The unexpected completion excited him. “Three points!”

  Randy slapped him on the back and Miguel clapped.

  “Nice one!” Randy said, then turned to me. “Tony asked us to clean up after ourselves. He left the trash bag for us.”

  “All right,” I said, then sighed. “It’s been cool here in the Cabin of Seclusion. I wish we could stay longer.”

  I picked up my package of Pop Tarts and tore open the wrapper. A can of Pepsi was there for me, too. My friends were already finished with their breakfasts and were picking up after themselves, putting their garbage in the trash bag while I ate. Miguel hummed a work song that I believe was Relax by Frankie Goes to Hollywood.

  “Maybe when we get back, we can figure out how to buy this place,” I said, my mouth full of food. The Pepsi popped when I pulled the can’s tab, then hissed, a mass of carbonated soda plopping down to the hardwood floors.

  “How are we going to do that?” Randy said, standing by a window and looking out at the bay at the sail boats bobbing in the water. “Tony said we wouldn’t be able to buy it.”

  “What does he know? He’s just a teenager like us,” I scoffed.

  “That’s true,” Randy said, returning to where I was sitting on the floor.

  Brian and Miguel played a tense game of one-on-one basketball, using whatever trash they could find as the ball: crushed cans, wads of paper, or whatever. Randy scooched closer to me to give them playing room.

  “Maybe we could convince one of our parents to buy this place,” he said, scratching his scalp. “Brian’s maybe?”

  “Yeah, that’s a great idea!” I said, raising my voice so Brian could hear. “What do you think, Brian?”

  He stopped in his tracks, allowing Miguel to run around him and slam-dunk a soda can unimpeded.

  “In your face!” Miguel cried out, dancing a victory jig.

  Brian placed his hands on his hips. “If I talk to my parents about buying this place, then they will be suspicious.”

  “Why’s that?” I said, wadding up the wrapper after the last bite, then tossing it at the trash bag. It didn’t go in.

  Brian sat down with me and Randy.

  “You don’t think they’d be suspicious if I asked them out of the blue to buy an abandoned lake house? Sounds weird just saying it out loud.”

  “Well, you don’t have to say it like that,” I said, rubbing my chin and thinking of a better sales pitch. “You could say... Dad, mom. I have an excellent investment opportunity.”

  My three friends laughed, particularly Brian, who slapped his knee then threw his head back, his laughter billowing up to the rafters.

  “That’s funny,” he said, then sighed. “Too funny.”

  Miguel returned to the window and looked out at the bay.

  “When do you think Tony will be back?” he said. He pressed his nose against the window, shading his eyes with one hand. The morning sunlight was bright and intrusive. “I think I see him!”

  “Is he coming in this direction?” I said.

  “No. He’s driving around the boats out there in the middle of the lake. Or at least I think that’s him,” he replied, then stammered. I could tell he was mulling something over in his mind, something importan
t. “Do you drive a motor boat? Or do you boat a motor boat?”

  “What are you talking about?” Brian said, then laughed. “You always ask the weirdest questions.”

  “The boat,” Miguel said. “When you operate it. Do you drive it or boat it?”

  “Who cares!” Randy blurted.

  “I do,” Miguel said. “I like to know these things.”

  “Nerd stuff,” Randy scoffed.

  “Maybe,” Miguel said, returning to where the rest of us were sitting. “What do we do until he comes back?”

  “I guess just make sure this place is cleaned up and pack our stuff,” I said. “Then back to reality.”

  “Sucks,” Randy said. “The Thousand Oaks Gang is gonna hound us all summer.”

  “We should bury the backpack before we leave,” Brian suggested. “Like in the trees behind the house.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” I said. “Let’s do it after we clean up.”

  “Radical!” Brian said, standing up. “Let’s clean up then.”

  The rest of us stood up, then scoured the lake house for food wrappers and soda cans and cigarette butts and whatever else we could find. As we picked up after ourselves, I decided to tell my friends about what I saw the night before while they were all sleeping.

  “I saw a wolf last night,” I said, which of course stopped all my friends.

  “What?” Brian said.

  “A wolf. While you guys were out cold last night. I heard something out back, so I decided to look out the window. It stared back at me.”

  “Was it by itself?” Brian said.

  “Yep.”

  “That’s crazy. They usually travel in—”

  “Packs?” I said, then we both laughed.

  “You read my mind!”

  “That’s what friends do,” I said, then picked up a flattened soda can and tossed it at the trash bag. The can bounced off the counter edge, then clunked on the floor.